Ideas Méli Mélohttps://ideasmelimelo.wordpress.com
A little bit of this, a little bit of thatThu, 14 Dec 2017 02:32:52 +0000enhourly1http://wordpress.com/https://s2.wp.com/i/buttonw-com.pngIdeas Méli Mélohttps://ideasmelimelo.wordpress.com
Bread-making for the soulhttps://ideasmelimelo.wordpress.com/2017/09/01/bread-making-for-the-soul/
https://ideasmelimelo.wordpress.com/2017/09/01/bread-making-for-the-soul/#respondFri, 01 Sep 2017 21:22:40 +0000http://ideasmelimelo.wordpress.com/?p=2284Continue reading →]]>Rain is pouring down as I write this, as it has threatened to do all day long. The sun has emerged and then hidden itself multiple times, much in the way my mind has been bobbing from pleasant thoughts to dark, hard memories of this day one year ago—a day in which the weather was eerily similar.

If I’m honest, not a day goes by when I don’t think of that time—a pang of remembrance, residual fear when I see or hear a dog, a moment of gratitude, a realization that we are OK and we have been blessed in so many ways. While external and internal scars remain, we’ve come so far in the past year.

Today, I just couldn’t summon the energy for all of the errands and projects I’d intended. Instead, I spent the afternoon baking a challah, the traditional braided bread for Shabbat (the Jewish sabbath). I have only made challah a few times in my life and I had forgotten how time-consuming the process can be.

Making Bread

The recipe requires considerable patience after mixing the ingredients: letting the dough rise, kneading it, putting it aside to rest and rise, kneading… again and again, braiding it and then gently turning up the temperature as it bakes. The recipe is a variation on a tradition that has existed for centuries.

This afternoon, it was just what I needed: pounding the dough, stretching it, transforming it, making something nourishing for my family.

As the sweet aroma of the baking challah fills our kitchen, I think about the ways in which healing resembles the bread making process. It takes time, patience, warmth, attention, pounding through hard moments, stretching oneself, resting, working through it, and repeating. The good and the bad of the last year are braided together, inseparable.

We are different than we were one year ago but I hope as we eat this bread tonight, we will focus on the sweetness of being together, with gratitude, and with a renewed commitment to showing kindness and empathy toward others who go though challenging times.

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]]>https://ideasmelimelo.wordpress.com/2017/09/01/bread-making-for-the-soul/feed/020170901_153046lizbertrand7414457503_10157376333175417_5841261708982432935_n-1Mother’s Day Uncensored (or Stepping In It with Style)https://ideasmelimelo.wordpress.com/2017/05/14/mothers-day-uncensored-or-stepping-in-it-with-style/
https://ideasmelimelo.wordpress.com/2017/05/14/mothers-day-uncensored-or-stepping-in-it-with-style/#commentsSun, 14 May 2017 23:07:54 +0000http://ideasmelimelo.wordpress.com/?p=2033Continue reading →]]>Mother’s Day is bouquets of fresh flowers, the pitter-patter of little feet running through the house while Mama half-dozes, giggling outside the bedroom door, handmade cards, a mocha coffee delivered bedside, and a bagel brunch on the back deck with thoughtful gifts and sweet words. It’s lovely and divine.

But this year, I discovered the night before could also dish up its own spot-on, hilarious tribute to motherhood:

We were sitting around the table picking at the last bits of Chinese takeout, when my husband and I heard a small but persistent voice from the bathroom.

“I’m duh-uhn!”

“Just a sec, honey…” I said, as we continued chatting about our plans for the week ahead.

“A little help here?” the voice called out again.

And then, “Mama?”

Finally, taking the hint, I joined my 4-year old throne-side.

“Um, I had a little accident, Mama… sorry.”

I looked down and saw his Super Mario briefs lying on the floor—looking remarkably accident-free.

“No problem, Sweetie,” I said, scrunching a handful of toilet paper into my palm so I could help him.

“You know what, Mama? I saved Lego bag number 3 so you could help me tonight since Papa already got to help me… and tomorrow, you can give me a bath because it’s gonna be Mother’s Day and usually Papa does that… so tomorrow will be special.”

I smiled at his concept of Mother’s Day. As I wiped him, he continued to chirp away, using a tone most women reserve for the nail salon. “And I’m working on a secret art project but I can’t tell you about it,” he said, “because it’s a surprise and…”

I thought back to earlier in the day and my older son’s sad eyes when he heard that Mama wouldn’t be at his baseball game. My husband explained that I was going to take the afternoon off and go shopping, as an early Mother’s Day present. But one look at that face and I changed my plans.

“I’ll join you at the park,” I’d told him.

As it turned out, I never had to leave. En route to the park, his tummy started hurting. With vomit an imminent possibility, my husband quickly drove him home to be under the watchful eye of Mama.

I couldn’t help laughing as I looked around. And that night as I snuggled on the couch with my boys and we watched the opening scenes of E.T. together, a favorite movie from my own childhood, I thought how lucky I am to have them.

When Mateo climbed out of bed long after he should have already been asleep because he was scared and wanted a hug, I thought how wonderful it is to be needed and loved and entertained by these little boys every day of the year.

This is motherhood. And though it can be exhausting and frustrating, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

On describing a teacher [courtesy of M, age 4]:

One more for the road… Overheard at Sports Clip (as stylist makes small talk with young child in chair next to us):

– That’s a cool action figure you brought with you! What’s his name again– Captain Morgan?

[Awkward moment follows as child’s mother sweetly suggests stylist mistook superhero for Rum spokes-pirate because she works long hours in a salon where sports shows and liquor ads must play all day. But stylist corrects her…]

Despite the range of feelings we experienced, from fear and anger to sadness and anxiety, this traumatic incident also reminded me of humankind’s profound ability to do good.

So many people—friends, family, and strangers —have reached out to us to help.

There are good people out there, everyday heroes who make a huge difference. Sometimes it’s a professional calling, people who have made rescue and healing part of their daily lives. But just as often it is someone who makes an extra effort to do something kind, generous, and restorative.

Fred Rogers, the beloved children’s TV host, summed up these types of heroes well: “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.'”

Thinking back on this challenging autumn, there are an extraordinary number of helpers to whom I want to express my gratitude. They have given me hope for a better world—people of all backgrounds, differing politics, from preschool aged kids to 95 year olds. Their instinct to do good reassures and reminds me that each of us has within us the capacity to help, heal, and improve the world.

We will never forget what people have done for us during this difficult time and I intend to pay it forward for the rest of my life: in daily actions, in choosing to do and help rather than shake my head in frustration; in reaching out when there is a need.

Do not believe anyone who says your actions don’t matter or can’t make a difference. They do. They can change the world—starting with the very first person you reach out to help.

I am grateful for…

The man who appeared on our doorstep, offering his tickets so Noah could see his first Carolina Panthers game

The custodial worker who loaned her cell phone charger to my husband in the ER

The Child Life Specialists who eased Noah’s worry before each new step—sewing stitches on the forehead of a stuffed toy alligator to cuddle, showing Noah how to spray Mama and Papa with syringes filled with water, giving him a certificate of bravery when he had to return to the ER for rabies immunizations

The bus driver who gave Noah a heartfelt card and gift, sharing her own worry and sorrow over what had happened, and who ensures his safe arrival home with such love each day

The hospital chaplains who held my hand and listened

The dear friends who saw a need and jumped into action organizing meals and funds to help with medical expenses

The firemen who came by a week later to check on Noah and invited him to tour the firehouse when he felt better

Friends, family, and strangers who sent cards, emails, texts, and messages of encouragement

Those who sent Legos, puzzles, magic tricks, books and more to help Noah recover

The paramedics who showed such calm and reassured Noah at the height of his pain and panic

The Missouri school teacher and her students at the French immersion school who heard about what happened and sent Noah a care package full of well wishes and gifts

Folks who appeared on our doorstep with cookies, gifts for the kids, and soup

Friends and strangers who thoughtfully sent notes and gifts for Noah’s 4-year-old brother Matéo too

Our caring pediatrician and her staff who supported us immeasurably and even made a house call

Friends who told us how important self-care would be and offered support in multiple ways

My sister and brother who dropped everything to come help

An elderly woman who saw Noah’s story on the news and sent him a care package filled with superhero mementos

A school counselor and school psychologist who went above and beyond, visiting Noah at home and ensuring his positive readjustment to school

Handmade cards from Noah’s schoolmates as well as from other local kids

The Animal Control Officer who stayed with us at the hospital, long after his shift ended, to ensure our safety and the police officers we never met who scoured the surrounding neighborhoods for the attacking dogs

Friends who sat with us in the hospital and made sure we ate something

Neighbors who sprang into action—on the scene and in the days that followed

Reporters who showed compassion

Friends who helped with childcare in our most challenging hours

A principal who called Noah at the hospital

Nurses who eased Noah’s worry (as well as our own) and made him comfortable during his hospital stay

Teachers who came to visit, called Noah, read to him, and checked on our family repeatedly

A surgeon whose superior technical skill was matched by his ability to relate and empathize with his patient and parents

Cousins, aunts, uncles, and dear friends who reached out from across the US and around the globe

Mental health professionals who have helped us stay afloat and progress

Those who lovingly prepared meals and sent gift cards, cleaned our house, or did our laundry

Our parents who ran errands, sent thoughtful gifts, entertained the children, gave hugs from near or far, and provided shoulders for us to lean upon

I am in a state of disbelief, disappointment, and grave sadness after Donald Trump’s vision for America was chosen last night by a majority of my countrymen and -women. This is a hard, hard morning and is making so many of us reflect on what this means for our country, our children, our place in the world.

As I struggle to make sense of it all, I can’t help thinking about my two boys and how I must be a strong example to them in this painful, defining moment in American history. This morning, my husband and I spoke to our boys and told them that despite our hopes (and even our assurances) the night before, the election had not gone the way we had hoped and, indeed, expected.

“I’m scared they will be taken away. Lots of them come from other places.” We had to dig deep to show optimism despite our own fears– reassuring our sweet son about his beautiful group of friends and classmates whose families are Mexican, Moroccan, Muslim, African-American and whose shining faces represent such hope for the future.

We told him this will make us work harder and that we will not abandon his friends or our vision of a better future for all children. We told him that it is very hard to lose but one of the great things about America is our democracy and that we must accept the will of the people and its choice for a new leader. I believe this. I also believe that we must do more, become more involved in local politics, in national politics, in expressing our views and not simply allow the next 4 years to destroy every bit of progress we’ve made and still hope to make.

I struggled to find an answer when I am still in such a state of disbelief that people could choose such a severely flawed candidate, lacking experience, and espousing policies of hatred and division. But his question reminds me that part of our work going forward is understanding “the why.” What explains our radically different views on the world and what has motivated them to vote for Trump? Is it racism? Is it economics? Is it fear? Is it one issue or many? Is it their educational background? Is it their daily experience, which must be so different from my own?

We tend to surround ourselves in real life and especially on social media by people who share our ideas. This election is a wake-up call that the reality of America is quite different than how I saw it, how most of the pollsters and pundits saw it, and that there is a huge disconnect between our differing visions of America.

The last thing I’ll mention is the one that I must remind myself of today and hold onto tightly. Over the weekend, when we were eagerly anticipating the week ahead and what we expected to be a historic, glass ceiling-shattering moment, we talked about our schedules.

“No school on Tuesday or Friday,” Noah told us.

“And we have the election on Tuesday — it’s a big week,” I said.

“Yes,” he agreed. “It is… And on Wednesday we have the Book Fair!”

In his 7-year-old wisdom, he saw that there is a day after, that the sun would still come up this morning and that the world would keep turning. Let’s not give up hope. We owe it to our children. Let’s call this Day 1 of our renewed commitment to doing more to make our vision of a more just, equal, and inclusive America a reality.

The baristas are wearing plaid and the place is filled with giddy, over-caffeinated fans looking for Luke, Lorelai, and Rory. They’re also scanning the place for any piece of memorabilia to prove they were here — at one of the 200 “Luke’s Diners” — that have popped up in Charlotte and across the nation today in a creative nod to Gilmore Girls, the beloved TV series from the early 2000s. (The promotional push comes from Netflix who will be airing new reunion episodes later this month.)

Mugs Coffee, my regular neighborhood coffee joint, has been transformed overnight by a sign, the promise of free coffee, and a crowd of nostalgic, bubbly fans. (Poor Luke would be out of his mind trying to stifle all that unbridled enthusiasm…)

One woman just dug through the trashcan to find a limited edition Gilmore Girls paper coffee cup sleeve as a memento. Others are going table to table to see if they can swipe one from an unsentimental coffee drinker who may not be a fan of the show. It’s hard to find one here.

What fun to imagine just for a few moments that we’ve walked into Stars Hollow, that idyllic little town full of quirky personalities, where parents and kids are hard to tell apart, and life is about as unpredictable as the super-charged non-sequiturs flying back and forth over a cup of coffee.

I’ll drink to that.

You can catch all 7 seasons of Gilmore Girls on Netflix as well as the 4-episode reunion, which launches on Netflix on Nov. 25.

]]>https://ideasmelimelo.wordpress.com/2016/10/05/the-view-from-stars-hallow/feed/020161005_104601lizbertrand7420161005_10460120161005_10423920161005_1056037 signs you’re living with a child under age 7https://ideasmelimelo.wordpress.com/2016/03/29/7-signs-youre-living-with-a-child-under-age-7/
https://ideasmelimelo.wordpress.com/2016/03/29/7-signs-youre-living-with-a-child-under-age-7/#respondTue, 29 Mar 2016 18:12:54 +0000http://ideasmelimelo.wordpress.com/?p=829Continue reading →]]>There’s no denying it. You have all the symptoms. You’re living with one or more kids under age 7… aren’t you?

1. Your Netflix cue and cereal selection are both chock full of animated characters.

2. You occasionally rock out to a children’s CD even after the kiddos have gotten out of the car.

3. Your colleagues have caught you slurping up a Gogo Squeez apple sauce pouch during lunch.

I’ve always been a Super Bowl fan — the food, the commercials, the game (roughly in that order). What’s not to like?

But this year’s different: 1.) I took a killer Super Bowl cooking class at Chef Alyssa’s Kitchen to enhance my game day repertoire and 2.) I’ve actually been paying attention to what’s been happening on the field. (It’s been a heck of a season!) But it gets even better… 3.) This weekend my home team is playing!

Both of them.

Therein lies my dilemma: who should I root for? Carolina—the place I’ve called home for nearly 10 years, where I own a house, gave birth, and am raising two boys with my sports fanatic hubby? Or Colorado—my home on the range, where I spent summer days watching the Broncos training camp, about a mile from my parents’ house.

Cam Newton — what a player, what a smile!

It has been amazing to witness the Panthers’ historic, virtually undefeated season. Cam Newton’s smile and confidence are contagious. Underestimated week after week, he and his team keep slogging away and spreading their joy (sometimes with a “controversial” dance in the end zone).

Personally—it’s more complex. I think about my dad and my brother leaning into the TV, transfixed by the Broncos games all those autumn Sundays, when I was growing up. (They still are…) I think of the crazy Denver fans, like the guy who used to wear a barrel—that’s it—to every game for about 30 years. I think of the stunned look on my friend Staci’s face when rounding a corner, she ran smack into the massive chest of John Elway at a local burger joint. And I think about Broncos barefoot Kicker Rich Karlis, #3, coming to visit my brother when he was a patient at the Denver Children’s Hospital.

The Barrel Man in his signature hat, barrel, and boots (not pictured).

These things stick with you. Fanhood runs deep. And they still bring tears to my eyes. I can’t deny I will always be a Colorado girl.

But now I’m a Carolina girl, too.

It’s nice to have a definitive view on the world, like my nieces and nephew, who are pulling 100% for Peyton Manning, indoctrinated in the Broncos-way by their Colorado elders.

For my Charlotte family, it’s not so clear cut. My oldest son plans to wear his Panthers’ jersey with an orange shirt underneath. And my youngest switches his allegiance minute by minute.

Luckily, there is a bright side to this whole situation: on Sunday, my team is gonna win.

For a long time, I have been trying to find words to express my frustration, fear, anger, and sadness about the epidemic of gun violence in our country. Each terror attack and act of violence shatters us — but all too soon we go back to our “normal” lives. Enough.

Every time the news recounts the latest horrors — in a school, in a movie theater, at a holiday party, at an office, at a concert, at a health clinic, in a place of worship — I wonder, what can we do now? It’s time to act.

As a child, things were different. We met relatives at the airport gate when they came to visit. We felt safe at school. Going to the movies, the mall, a sporting event were things that we could enjoy without fear. I didn’t have to wonder if somebody could carry a concealed weapon into my local grocery store.

My children are used to security checks at the airport, they know where to hide during a lock down at school, and surely notice the way I tense up when we’re in crowds. My sister said she’s no longer comfortable seeing a blockbuster movie on opening night in our home state of Colorado. I am sad that my children will never feel as safe as I once did.

But when I hear the response from the Far Right — I’m absolutely disgusted. Freedom is not, as they claim, about carrying a gun and having the right to shoot anyone.

Freedom is living in a country where elected public officials make reasonable, common sense laws regarding guns

Freedom is knowing that your elected officials are not beholden to a gun lobby that blatantly urges us to become gun-toting vigilantes

Freedom is knowing that loopholes have been closed to ensure background checks are standard on all gun purchases

Freedom is knowing that we have taken every step possible to ban military style, high capacity weapons from a civilian setting

The worst thing we can do is throw up our hands in exasperation and stop trying to do something. We must keep pushing for common sense gun laws. We must call our elected officials, write letters, show our outrage. We must not stop until these freedoms are our reality. It will take a village. These organizations can help:

Formed after the tragedy at Sandy Hook, it fights for common sense gun laws to “decrease the escalating epidemic of gun violence that kills too many of our children and loved ones every day.”

I urge you to do something today — call a legislator, talk to your neighbor, write a letter to the editor. More guns are not the solution. More people working together to prevent gun violence is a move in the right direction.

What other groups or actions do you know of that are working to enact common sense gun laws? Please share them in your comments.